


Lucy's Day Out

by Doceo_Percepto, Sp00py



Series: Bendy's Murderous Adventure Across Moominvalley [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine, Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: AU to an AU, Nature Is Beautiful, Other, That looks like it hurts, The Classic Spike Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 11:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16117289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doceo_Percepto/pseuds/Doceo_Percepto, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp00py/pseuds/Sp00py
Summary: Lucy hears that something bad has happened to Snufkin, but bad things don't happen in Moominvalley. She goes out to investigate the truth.





	Lucy's Day Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HellenARTworkS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellenARTworkS/gifts).



> A gift to Lena. Thank you for allowing us to brutalize your OC. This is an AU to Lena's usual world with Lucy, and perhaps an AU to my own usual world with Bendy. AU party. Takes place between Visit to the Zoo and Fortuitous Alliance.

Lucy spent her days in Moominvalley much as she spent all her days before. She was never an exuberant child, and she was less so as an adult, though she’d learned to be far more open to the friends and family she’d made since arriving. The turbulence of her past had never bothered the others, and over time Lucy had learned to not let it bother her either. Such was the healing nature of Moominvalley, and the Moomin family.

So she had settled into life here, and it was here she wished to always stay. There was no better place in the world than where Lucy was right now. Some days she’d spend on the porch reading or sewing, every day she spent cleaning and tidying, and when Snufkin came — oh, those were the best days.

Though they weren’t particularly anything, they were, without a doubt, something special to each other. He brought out her more adventurous side (nothing quite like his, but she did love to walk the woods with him and listen to his stories), and he satisfied her curiosity about the world beyond. They adopted a friendship that suited both, he in the wilds and her at the hearth.

Only several days ago, they had been dozing at the side of the brook. The summer air had a heavy, expectant quality to it, waiting for the night that teased at the edge of the ocean. The perfume of flowers mixed with Snufkin’s earthier scents, pipe smoke, wood, dirt. It was a comfortable, familiar smell that reminded Lucy of when she was younger and less sure of her place in the world. Snufkin had, then as ever, been a bastion of calmness and acceptance.

Lucy loved these calm moments more than anything else. She had closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and timing her breath to match his. She wished, briefly, that this could last forever, but knew in her heart — though it did ache sometimes — that it’d be cruel for that wish to come true. Everything changed, moments passed, and the best thing to do was to cherish them while one had them, and fondly remember them once they were gone. Luckily, she had so many of Snufkin it was easy to lose herself in the thought of him.

He wasn’t here today, leaving her to her memories and her daily chores. They started early, stoking the stove fire, cooking a meal she longed to share with Snufkin, washing dishes, airing rooms. Though it was just her, there was always something to be done, so her days couldn’t be filled with pining or wistful thinking. Snufkin would return, as he always did.

Lucy stepped out into the brisk morning and took a moment to savor the dampness against her skin, the lingering chill of night, before she went to her mailbox to get the valley newspaper.

She returned to the kitchen and put the paper aside to steep her tea and set out her breakfast dishes. As she passed the paper, Snufkin’s name caught her eye like a beacon. Normally he didn’t make the papers unless he was coming or going with the seasons, but here he was, doing something noteworthy. Lucy paused a moment in her routine to glance over the story.

 _That can’t be right,_ she thought at first, casually, sure she’d misread. Then the headline began to coalesce into an undeniable horror. Her lower back struck the counter as the words blared up from the page.

Snufkin Killed By Wild Animal at Zoo.

Her hand flew to her heart, which she was certain was beating out of her chest, while the world around her seemed to spin.

Killed.

_Killed._

Snufkin. _Her_ Snufkin.

She read the line over and over again without fully comprehending. It couldn't be true. She had been with him just yesterday afternoon. They had walked out to the bridge together, with the water murmuring sweetly over rocks. Snufkin had put his harmonica to his lips, and the gentlest of songs had swept through the air: the one he loved to play for her, and the one she loved to twine her voice with.

Killed by a wild animal, she read again. She was absurdly aware of her rapid breathing. One shaking hand grabbed the counter for support.

Then, with an intense amount of certainty, the thought bloomed: _no_. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be right at all. Her Snufkin was a part of nature himself, a part of the big, frightening wilderness; he always came back smelling of flowers or soil or sometimes, like lake water, sweat, or animals. And that was the thing. Snufkin knew his way around wild animals. Better than anyone else in the world, she was sure of it.

How many times he had spoken to her about the variety of wildlife around Moominvalley - about the colorful diversity of birds, about the rabbits and foxes and gentle deer. How many times he had told her of the nuances of their behavior, and how animals had languages all of their own: languages one could understand if only one listened.

And Snufkin - he listened. He paid attention. He cared deeply about all living things, and was always mindful of their natures. Lucy didn’t think there were any dangerous animals around Moominvalley, but even if there were, she was certain he’d know exactly how to handle himself around them to keep both himself and the animal safe.

The conviction of this realization steadied Lucy. She took a deep breath, and read the headline again.

No, there was no way it was true. She had no idea why a paper would print something false, especially something so horrible as this, but it absolutely could not be true. Perhaps whoever had reported the story _thought_ it was true. Perhaps they had seen Snufkin roaming about with an animal, and had a very active, very morbid sort of imagination.

Whatever the reason, she had to get to the bottom of it (she had to make sure Snufkin was okay). She had to do _something_.

Still she stood in the middle of the kitchen, clutching the paper with white knuckles. Frozen. Bizarrely, she thought, _but the chores aren’t done._ And it seemed like a silly thought, next to the appalling discovery in her hands. Come rain or shine, sickness or health, the chores would get done.

But this - this was cause for a change in routine. Yes, she needed to find Snufkin, and everything else must be set aside. She knew Snufkin wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to be found, so she would go to the zoo. She’d talk to the zookeeper, the animals. Surely someone saw what had actually happened, could assuage the terror clutching at her heart. Snufkin was alive. He had to be. Perhaps she’d even come across him. She hoped so.

Feeling a new sense of purpose, something she’d never lacked for but never exactly _had_ before, Lucy put out the stove fire, donned her coat, and headed out the door.

The morning was so peaceful, so calming, it was a jarring contrast to the pit in her belly, the worry and fear gnawing at her like a rabid little beast. There weren’t any _dangerous_ animals at the zoo, she reminded herself. The headline was wrong. She was going to prove that.

The only thing was, she had never been out that way by herself. She’d been to the zoo, of course. Snufkin himself didn’t like to go, but Snorkmaiden had wanted to visit the friends she and Moomin had made during their zoo escape, and while Lucy had had the fortune to miss that particular adventure, she was glad to meet such kind animals as the tigers and snake. As soon as she got to the zoo, she was sure they’d be helpful in uncovering the truth of this matter.

Lucy walked briskly along the path to the forest, determination in every step. If she recalled, the last time she’d gone to the zoo, it had been along a faint trail in the forest, something infrequently trodden but she was sure she could find it again. For Snufkin.

She passed a familiar split oak, and, if she recalled correctly, should deviate from the main path here. A fainter trail led off into the woods.

Lucy followed it as diligently as she could, until the underbrush crowded in closer and the path grew smaller and smaller. She kept going. Then, before she realized it, the trail was gone, faded away into the forest floor. Lucy turned around. She couldn’t make out the path from this direction. A brief moment of fear gripped her heart. What if she’d been wrong, what if she was lost — people could so easily disappear forever in forests, even ones as gentle as this one.

 _Stop fretting,_ she scolded herself. There were more important matters. And, if she recalled, the path was supposed to fade. This was a shortcut, and not a well-known one. Snorkmaiden and she had simply continued on straight until they’d come across the zoo. Lucy berated herself a moment more for being so silly. Perhaps she’d tell Snufkin about this, when they met again. He’d find it amusing.

Feeling far more centered, Lucy marched further into the woods.

And so she walked, skirt occasionally catching on underbrush, shoes (which were very much not made for a hike through the forest) slipping on leaves, the day trickling by. It was such pleasant weather that this hike wasn’t any great chore, and soon Lucy found her thoughts wandering with the play of light through the canopy, the gentle breezes rustling leaves.

With things so bright and cheerful, it was hard to think anything bad could happen anywhere. She took heart in this. Snufkin was fine. It made her appreciate Moominvalley all the more, when she could glimpse it through the trees, the house a tall, blue gem in the middle while the ocean glittered like diamonds far away.

Lucy loved her home, and her adopted family, and the friends she’d made. It was an oasis of calm and happiness in the world. She’d never really viewed it from this far away, but it allowed a sort of calm to settle in her, seeing it. Moominvalley was always there. Serene, welcoming, and safe.

The day seemed brighter, the forest more lovely. Nature in Moominvalley was gentle and sweet, too. And now that she was looking and listening, Lucy could hear birds twittering, mice or Creeps or other small creatures sussurusing around her. The interplay of sunlight and shadow was a dance she found she could appreciate more now.

This was what Snufkin loved about the wild, Lucy realized. Why he was drawn away from homes and hearths into the wilderness, alone but not lonely. She felt closer to him than ever before, suddenly, as though now they shared some kindred understanding of the world. The smells of forest and earth that clung to him, they came from forests like this one, from earth like the soil beneath her feet.

She wasn’t entirely sure she was heading in the right direction, but felt in her soul that somehow, someway, she’d get to where she needed to be. That was simply how things were and, like her dear Snufkin, Lucy was going to try to let fate take her where she needed to be.

As Lucy walked the forest, feeling now a sense of wonder mingled oddly and overpoweringly with the dread she couldn’t shake no matter how peaceful the woods around her were, she began to hear snatches of a song being whistled. At first, her heart fluttered thinking it might be Snufkin, but it wasn’t him. It was higher and messier, the notes amateur.

Lucy tried to make herself look presentable, the sense of wonder quickly evaporating to the reality that she was sweaty, tired, dirty, and had Snufkin to find so she could share this experience with him. So she tidied herself. She didn’t want to leave a bad impression before she even got to ask for help. If she wanted to get to the zoo in any reasonable sort of time, she had to be approachable.

“Hello?” She called once she felt suitable enough to.

The whistling stopped, and Lucy suddenly felt very, very alone. She hoped it hadn’t been some shy little Creepy.

Lucy took a few tentative steps toward where the whistling had come from, waited, then turned to resume her journey and just hope it was the right path.

Something bounded out of the underbrush right beside her. She gave a thin, stifled shriek, before realizing how unwarranted that response was. If Snufkin was here, he would have chuckled at how skittish she could be. But he wasn’t, and that was the problem.

“H-hello,” she said again to the small, black creature who had come to a stop in front of her.

“Hiya,” he said. He was about the size of a large cat, with a flat grin on a flat face, black as tar and white as snow. He looked…. friendly, she supposed. Excitable.

“Do you know where the zoo is?” Lucy asked.

“Sure do! I just came from there.”

A rush of air. Lucy couldn’t believe her luck. She must be close. “Really? I’m so relieved. Maybe you could tell me — have you seen a Snufkin with a green hat and a green coat and the most peaceful air about him?”

“Let’s see, let’s see,” the little creature said thoughtfully, making an exaggerated gesture out of tapping its nonexistent chin. “I know the green outfit, but he wasn’t exactly peaceful when I saw him. Folks call me Bendy,” he said, suddenly jumping topic. Lucy, a little uncharitably, thought the change was jarring and unimportant.

“I’m Lucy,” she said reflexively, however. Manners was something she’d always excelled at. Not being a nuisance, being demure and quiet. “What do you mean, he wasn’t peaceful?” Could it be that Snufkin had come across something bad? No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. He knew how to handle himself.

“Gosh, well, Lucy-goosy, I mean he was screamin’ something awful, bleedin’ everywhere, beggin’ me t’ stop,” Bendy said with relish.

Those words didn’t make sense to Lucy. That didn’t sound like the Snufkin she knew, the Moominvalley she knew. Bendy must be mistaken. Things like that didn’t happen here.

“You must be mistaken,” she said curtly. To say such horrible things! He must be the one who told the paper Snufkin was dead.

“Nah, I don’t think I am. Had a yellow scarf, red blood, uh… brown hair,” Bendy rambled, clearly trying to remember what Snufkin looked like. “Kind of an idiot. There were warnings _all over_.”

Lucy didn’t want to hear any more. She’d find Snufkin herself. Bendy trotted until he was caught up with her.

“Ya ask me a bunch of stuff, call me mistaken when I try t’ be helpful, then just up ‘n’ leave. That’s rude.”

“You’re saying such terrible things. Please leave me alone.”

“They’re the truth. Ain’t my fault ya don’t believe me.”

“You,” Lucy began, all of Bendy’s words finally registering. She came to a stop. “You said you did this to him?”

“Sure did. It was fun.”

She looked back at this small, cute creature and tried to imagine him _hurting_ someone. His face didn’t change, expression fixed on. Now that she thought about it, he did have a strange air around him.

“I’m sorry, I’m leaving. I don’t want to hear any more lies,” she said, walking faster. She wanted to run but knew she’d trip. She wasn’t made for the suddenly ominous forest. Be calm, like Snufkin. Don’t think of him bleeding, of him begging.

“Hey.” Something grabbed her wrist and whipped her around with a force much stronger than she believed this creature capable of. “I’m not lyin’. Liars go to hell. So what, ya don’t believe me? Ya want me to prove it? I know all kinds of things the paper didn’t print.”

“I’m sure you have many stories,” Lucy said stiffly, yanking free of his grip. She was also sure not a single one of them was true.

“Details, _details_ ,” Bendy emphasized. “Though I got stories too. Ya wanna hear some stories?”

“No, thank you.” Lucy gathered her skirt in her fists and strode as fast as she dared. She needed to get to the zoo, now. But this whole tizzy had gotten her mixed up, and now she wasn’t even entirely sure she was going in the right direction.

“C’mon, you gotta be lonely after I killed your friend Snuffles. Snufkle. Snoofle. What was his name again?”

“ _Snufkin_ ,” Lucy said shortly. Her eyes were flicking left and right in desperate hope of catching sight of someone that might get this creature away from her.

“Right, right, Snufkin. See, I never got t’ ask him myself, prolly ‘cause I was too busy fuckin’ his guts out of his body.”

That lewd word sent a shock through Lucy’s body, and then the morbid ones hit her a moment later. She was disgusted beyond belief. To hear someone speak that way – especially about Snufkin! She’d never met someone so rude and appalling. And the little creature wasn’t finished, it seemed.

On he rambled, “I felt real close to him while I was twisted up in his stomach, but now that you're here, maybe-“

“Stop that!” she cried. “Stop saying such horrible and untrue things about Snufkin! Just get away from me!”

“Oh, so ya still think I’m lyin’?” he looked up at her with the foulest sort of expression. “Want me to show ya? They do say seein’ is believin’.”

Lucy didn’t even know what to say. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. She wanted this thing away from her,  _now_. Again she turned to leave, and again he grabbed her wrist and halted the motion. “Let go of me,” she demanded, trying very hard to stay calm.

“Okay, I’ll show ya, but be nice, kay? I just figured it out, and a guy can be preeetty sensitive about what’s between his legs. Not big enough, too soft, not shaped right – well, from what I understand, there’s a whole lotta things one can be anxious about.” Bendy paused, then added, “I ain’t anxious about any of that, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

Lucy let out a shriek, because the creature’s skin – fur? – had started _melting_ , all over his body. Huge chunks of it sloughed right off into the grass, and though she recoiled she couldn't stop staring in horror. The creature was growing despite the shedding of its own flesh; black liquid drooled over its white gloves and extended the fingers into long claws; when it hunched over, a skeletal spine ruptured through its previously round back. Its arms and legs stretched longer from oozing liquid, and soon enough there was a very tall very predatory looking creature standing there on all fours, with a wide sharp-toothed grin, and no discernable eyes.

He spread his hind legs to better emphasize the body part between them – that is when Lucy fainted.

 

She awoke all too soon to the monster gone — to the point she thought she must have imagined it — and _something_ up underneath her skirt. She shrieked and kicked herself backwards, because that something was pushing into her and it _hurt_.

The thing shuffled back a little, and Bendy’s head appeared out from under the rumpled skirt. His arms were still underneath, but nothing was inside her now. Lucy knew vaguely what had happened; she’d been intimate with Snufkin before, but it had felt nothing like this. Nothing so invasive and painful and uninvited.

Bendy lifted one paw and waggled his fingers at her. They were wet.

“You’ve got an innie. Ain’t seen a lot of those.”

“W-what?” There was a rushing in Lucy’s ears, and she wasn’t sure she’d heard Bendy right. He’d been pushing his fingers _inside_ her. He’d violated her.

“I’ve got one of those too, when I feel like it. ‘cept I didn’t know they were so detailed.” Bendy whistled. “Hey, mind sitting still for me? I was tryin’ to learn a thing or two-” He grasped the fabric of her skirt and tried to duck back under again.

She couldn’t allow this for a moment more. Lucy scrambled backwards. “That’s _private_ -” she yelped: it was something shared only in the dark and quiet with a person you cared very much for, and who cared very much for you. And this was happening in the middle of the day, in the middle of the wilderness, with this _thing_ she had just met.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m not even gonna hurt ya, promise.” He was following her, clawing at her skirt and her thighs.

“Stop it stop it, get away from me!” She tried twice to get her legs under her and failed. On the second attempt, her skirt tore. “ _No_!” she shouted, but Bendy had already wormed himself between her thighs, and in the next second there was an unpleasant burn and pressure inside herself where he had jammed in one finger. She let out a wrenching gasp.

“Boy, that really goes deep,” he remarked, then, “ya do anything to make it nicer when people use it?”

She hiked up one leg and kicked it at him. His body grotesquely shifted to avoid the kick, then popped back to normal.

“I mean, I got some nubs and spikes, but if there’s somethin’ else I can do-”

“ _Get away from me_!” It was a high-pitched screech of a sentence. She accentuated it with a hard kick from both her legs, and this time her feet hit their mark. To her revulsion, the creature’s body almost immediately turned to liquid, and splattered all over the ground and up her shoes and legs. “Eeeeuk-” She shot to her feet and backed away.

Was she safe now? Was it _dead_? She didn’t know how to feel about that - but she didn’t have any more time to consider it before the sticky black goo started drawing together as if magnetized, like water flowing into a whirlpool. The substance grew and built and then, in the next second, Bendy stood there perfectly unharmed, as if nothing had happened.

He straightened his bowtie. “Yeesh, here I thought we could’a been friends! But you-”

Lucy didn’t catch the rest of the words. She was too busy running - she didn’t care what direction, or where it lead her - all she wanted was _away_.

She didn’t make it far.

Something cold as death and whip-thin wrapped around her ankle. It jerked and she went crashing to the grass; her arms just barely caught her in time before her face collided with the ground. The cry of terror that burst from her lips was one of a terrified prey animal, and she felt very much like prey.

As the snare dragged her back, she twisted onto her back and gasped in horror. The monster she had glimpsed before was not her imagination at all. It was very, very real, and it stood over her with black liquid drooling through its enormous serrated teeth. In her paralyzed terror, she belatedly realized that Bendy must have been telling the truth. About Snufkin. About everything.

The despair that clutched her was devastating - both for her own behalf and Snufkin’s. All of Bendy’s words came tumbling down like an avalanche onto her — bleeding everywhere, begging, fucking his guts out. She felt, viscerally, that same sensation in her own belly and she’d not even been the one to endure it. Her poor, poor Snufkin. He must have been so scared, in so much pain. _Things like this didn’t happen._

But they had happened to Snufkin. They were going to happen to her, she realized. Suddenly, her mind was far away, long ago, to the shipwreck that had eventually led her to Moominvalley. She’d thought she was going to die then, too. Water rising, a storm lashing the damaged vessel. Looking up at Bendy, Lucy knew he was like that storm bottled, concentrated and dangerous.

She knew, deep in her bones, that she wasn’t going to survive this time.

Then his teeth clamped down over her head. Thick liquid flooded her throat and nostrils until there was no room for air at all. She tried to scream, try to cry out, but it all that came through was a throttled bubbling that swiftly turned into seizing gags. Each spasm dug his teeth deeper into her cheeks until finally he released her; Lucy twisted to the side and spat out foul tasting chunks of the sticky substance.

Her eyes were thick with tears, and she was so caught up in the awfulness of what was happening that she didn’t notice Bendy prise her legs apart, not until something wet and cold nudged where nobody but Snufkin should ever touch. She whipped her head around. There was no time to react. Bendy shoved in, and it was not unlike an array of thorns raking along her innermost walls.

Snufkin - he had always been gentle, mindful of her. This was not anything like that. Spines tore straight through her most sensitive parts. The howl that ripped from her chest was something hardly sapient.

Bendy reached the end of her, but didn’t stop. Like a curved blade, it punctured right through her organs and delved eagerly into her belly. This was something else she and Snufkin now shared, a darker understanding of the world, she thought vaguely.

Lucy blacked out, and dizzily came to a second or so later with her entire body oddly numb and tingly. Through woozy vision, she glimpsed the skeletal mass of darkness hovering over her, and the long black part that connected her with it. But all of this was marked by surreal disbelief.

Things like this did not happen in Moominvalley. Moominvalley was safe. Moominvalley was peaceful. And Snufkin - he - he had to be okay. She had to be okay. Everything had to be -

Another vicious thrust drove him deeper inside her. Her diaphragm tore like paper. Spikes scoured along her lungs, punctured into the delicate cardiac tissues.

With a final bubbling spasm, Lucy went still and glassy-eyed, certain up to the last moment that this couldn’t truly be happening, while Bendy, unknowing of her death, continued on thrusting into her body.


End file.
